Robe-less

I did the ceremony without the robe.

And it felt perfect. There was no nervousness. There was no discomfort. There was only that electric current that traveled my spine that I missed so much. The electricity that only comes when I'm speaking outside myself. In reading this blog post this morning I was moved as it begins to describe how I feel when I am privileged enough to communicate on God's behalf.

"...what we are doing is gathering to bear witness to something we don't quite grasp, cannot quite explain, but recognize when we see it. We call someone a priest. I would paraphrase the sermon as saying that someone called to ordained ministry is called around to stand in the middle of a field of grace and play...play so that all the world may know of God's grace."

That's what it felt like on Saturday in the rose garden.

But I think it only felt that way because I didn't wear the robe.

N. & N. asked me to wear it when we planned the service. I had it in the backseat on the way to Columbus. And then I had a moment of insight. And when I did, my nervousness faded and my confidence returned.

For me, in that moment the robe symbolized the expectations that other people have of the person who is putting it on to do ministry. It felt as though, in the sheer act of buttoning it around myself, I would disappear and in my place would magically appear someone whom everyone expected perfection from.

It felt as though external expectations would be stronger than my reality.

That may not be true and it may not be fair but it's been my experience in ministry. 

Nevertheless, for a few sweet minutes on Saturday afternoon I remembered. And I gave thanks.